This Is What He Wanted
by godtierGrammarian
Summary: He only laughs when they sentence him to death, and Zelda realizes it wasn't an accident. Post-TP. Major Character Death.


They haul him in by the arms; he's not even trying to walk on his own, his feet dragging limp across the vast expanse of floor stretching between him and his executioners. Zelda watches his boots scuff up her palace floors and she doesn't even care about the marble, for once.

He's in bad shape, that much is for sure. As they drag him closer, Zelda can make out the dirt and dried blood covering what seems like every inch of him. He's disheveled, his tunic torn in countless places, and what was once muscle now hangs limp from his arms. His hat, that floppy green hat that always looked more like a windsock than anything else, is missing, and he looks almost naked without it, his tangled, dirty goldenrod hair hanging in his eyes. And dear Nayru, Zelda thinks, leaning forward suddenly, dear Farore and Din, where is his Triforce?

His hand is blackened by dried blood, and Zelda realizes he's cut at the skin there, in the shape of the sacred triangles that marked him as a chosen hero. But now, she notices, there is no telltale sheen of gold there, no familiar warmth in her own hand as he approaches, only emptiness and three triangle-shaped scars.

The blessing of the goddesses has abandoned him. Zelda's breath catches in her throat as she realizes just how far he's fallen.

At last the guards and the prisoner hanging between them reach the end of the hall, coming face to face with the court that has gathered in front of the throne. A line of soldiers keep the distance between the jury and the accused; someone's knees are shaking, and the rattle of chain mail shatters the silence that hangs over the room. Obviously someone has not forgotten the fearsome warrior this man once was.

For a moment, Link (for of course it's him, despite everything that's happened these last few years) lifts his head and looks right at Zelda. She leans forward almost without thinking, and she can see the brokenness in his blue eyes, and the pain and the madness, but one thing is more clear in his gaze than anything else, and it stabs right through Zelda's heart.

Acceptance.

 _Kill me if you must,_ his eyes tell her. _I've earned it, after all, and it'll only save me the trouble._

She grips the arms of her throne, her fingers trembling, and looks away.

"Let the trial commence," someone says, and the hush over the room only deepens.

They find him guilty. Of course they do, and Zelda doesn't blame them. There's no doubt he did it. Even Link himself doesn't try to deny it. He was walking down a side street in Castle Town, sometime close to midday, when one of the girls from the STAR game caught sight of him and rushed at him, eager to have his autograph. Link, however, pulled his sword on her, and that was that. The little green-haired girl stood no chance. There were several eyewitnesses, including the girls' inseparable friends, a redhead and another girl with blue hair, who now sit in the front row; the redhead stares with vicious hatred at the former hero, while the blue girl simply sits there and shakes, and shakes, her eyes fixed, unseeing, on her hands.

When the verdict is announced, Link half smiles, and the soldiers grip his arms as he begins to shudder; at first Zelda is alarmed until she realizes he is laughing, silently. He is laughing and his shoulders sag, almost with relief, and the soldiers have to strain to keep him upright, he goes so limp. He keeps laughing quietly as they drag him from the court, and Zelda watches him go, her lips taut, an unsettled feeling in her gut.

.

.

.

Early the next morning, Colin bursts into her study. At sixteen, he's among the army's youngest recruits, and if Zelda is to be honest with herself, he shows more promise than the rest of the army put together. She'd stationed him in southern Faron, close enough to Ordon that he could visit his family often but near enough to the areas with high concentrations of Bokoblin forces to be useful. He must have ridden all night once he heard the news, and he looks duly exhausted. This is why Zelda decides to excuse his behavior when he drops all sense of propriety and screams at her, "You can't do this!"

She rises from her desk and responds coolly, "Colin. I know you disagree with the verdict, but you cannot argue with the consensus of the people. There were eyewitnesses. Link was guilty and therefore he will suffer the punishment he is due."

There's more grief than anger in his eyes. "I don't care. You can't kill him, you can't."

"Colin," Zelda says again, and moves toward him. His youth is clear in his big eyes, which are beginning to well with tears. Placing a hand on his shoulder, Zelda continues, "I don't like it any more than you do. But we must be reasonable. You know Link hasn't been the same since the war ended. Frankly, Colin, I am afraid that if this hadn't transpired to bring about his death, he would have been on the verge of carrying out his sentence himself."

Colin closes his eyes and drops his chin to his chest before abruptly wrenching his head back and looking up at the ceiling, a bitter set to his jaw. His breathing is shaky, uneven, and he begins to shake his head. "No. I, no, I won't believe it. I can't, I just..."

Zelda tightens her grip on his shoulder, gently. "Colin, for your own sake and for Link's, you must. Know that this is possibly one of the better outcomes this story could have. He will be at peace, and the people will have no more reason to fear him. As for his role as hero, I have no doubt that someone will one day step up to fill his shoes." She looks at him evenly and she admits to herself she can almost imagine that the Triforce is glittering there on his hand.

Colin steps back from her, and she removes her hand from his shoulder. He frowns, resentful, and mutters, "That doesn't change the fact that it's murder."

"You're right," Zelda says, and it's clear he's surprised she agrees. "But there's nothing I can do about it now. The people have spoken, and so at sunset Link will be hanged."

"No," Colin whispers, a tear finally escaping down his cheek.

"I'm not asking you to be there. I'm just asking that you accept it and move on. Please understand this much, Colin." She closes her eyes and sees Link's eyes again, and she is certain. "This is what he wanted."

She returns to her desk and seats herself, and Colin turns to the door. Before he leaves, though, he mutters over his shoulder, "I'll be there."

And Zelda just sits there and watches him go.

.

.

.

There's a subtle irony in holding the execution at twilight, although Zelda must admit she did have a hand in the matter. It was the least she could do for Link. It's half the reason he did this. The other half of his motives remains unclear to her, and she accepts that she may never understand them.

She stands on the balcony overlooking the courtyard, where a gallows has been erected. A small crowd has gathered for the occasion, and, true to his word, Colin is among them. Several other soldiers stand at attention as two guards bring out Link. They don't have to drag him now; he walks on his own, and he appears steady on his feet, despite the shackles on his wrists and ankles. He wears a prisoner's garb instead of his torn, filthy tunic, and even appears more or less respectable, his hair tidied and his face clean. He meets the eyes of those townspeople in the crowd who are brave enough to look at him, and when he sees Colin, he stops (the soldiers don't hound him to keep moving, for which Zelda is grateful) and smiles, just a bit.

Colin looks so horrified and lost that it's all Zelda can do to keep up her emotionless facade. Before she can regain her composure, however, Link looks up at her, and she musters all the sorrow and love she can into one look. He seems to understand (he once received a similar look from another princess, not so long ago), and he proceeds to the base of the gallows without struggle, calm and serene as a monarch going to his crowning.

The rope is fitted around his neck and the irons removed from his hands and feet. He flexes his fingers experimentally and then relaxes, lifting his head as the twilight sun sinks below the castle wall. He smiles, and—

A thud, a swish, and the rope creaks.

Zelda looks away. Somewhere in the murmuring crowd, Colin suppresses a sob.

The twilight begins to fade, and Link of Ordon is dead.

.

.

.

* * *

 **A/N: He was mad enough to desire death but not brave enough to kill himself, so he let someone else do it for him.**

 **For some reason I like writing about fallen heroes. This is the second time I've killed poor Link. But this _was_ what he wanted, wasn't it? You'd understand if you lost everything after a war, wouldn't you? **

**Zelda understood. Colin didn't.**

 **.**

 **Reviews are much appreciated.**

 **[!] EDIT 7/15: GUYS. This story has THE MOST VIEWS of all my stories, but only ONE REVIEW and NO FAVORITES. Come on, I know you can do better than this! Nice comments a happy author make. Just saying. [!]**

 **Thanks,**

 **godtierGrammarian**


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